


Feathered

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Opera, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Episode Related, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Married Couple, Missionary Position, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ripped Clothing, Romance, Season/Series 07, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: "You'll make a very fine and feathered wife."
Relationships: Laverne De Fazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Leonard Feather/Brunhilde
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Feathered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amythis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/gifts).



> Happy birthday, amythis!
> 
> This is based on the operetta AU segment from "That's Entertainment". To get what's going on, come watch the segment right here, then come back to the story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hArXStrWINs

It was, by Brunhilde’s estimation, quite early in the morning when Leonard Feather carried her over the threshold of his home bridal style. Sunlight was peeping over the rims of the large windows, painting everything soft golden, and she could hear birds tweeting in the branches outside the door.

The ceremony had been quick and tasteful, and paid for out of the tenancy purse of her dead landlord. Mimi and Carmine had spent the entire double wedding giving one another goo goo eyes; they hadn’t even noticed that Brunhilde and Leonard had slipped out the back door during the reception.

Her father had threatened to punch Leonard before they left - but that was only a threat. Eventually he shrugged. “Well, you’re not Italian – but she’s almost thirty.” 

Brunhilde mentally winced in retrospect at his evaluation. She loved her father, but sometimes he could be a real bummer. Midsommar was definitely going be a whole lot more awkward this year, even with herself and Mimi married off. But at least she’d be living here, unlike poor Carmine and Mimi, who would be stuck with their father and Rhonda-chan.

“Well, my dear – here’s where we’ll birth, feed, and educate our children!” Leonard said, interrupting her thoughts. “Not necessarily in that order!”

It looked like a dream compared to the place she’d shared with Mimi, so Brunhilde said, “you have an indoor bathroom! What a palace!”

Leonard shrugged, nearly losing his grip on her. “I never did like it here – mostly because I had to share it with my boss – but now that you’re with me, it will be a land of sunshine and beauty! Better than even the swamps of home.”

She beamed at his declaration, discarding her shield and spear on the floor with a clatter – she didn’t want to risk something terrible happening to some portion of his anatomy now that she had official dibs on it.

“Do you want anything? Grapes? A boar? A spittoon?” he asked, striding through the living area and toward a closed door – the bedroom, she realized – and then kneeing it open with a muffled whine and wince.

Brunhilde smiled as he kicked the door of his personal apartment shut. “Only you. I can’t wait to start,” she confessed. “You did promise you’d take advantage of me.”

His eyes were bright and blue as they walked into the small side bedroom that evidently had been his. “Well, it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to make you wait.” He gently deposited her on…the top bed of a bunk? Brunhilde frowned and squirmed against the bright green sheets and felt the frame rock as Leonard climbed up beside her.

She pulled her helmet off in response, and then turned toward him. The eagerness in his face was both thrilling and touching, even as the bed swayed beneath them. 

“No offense, Leonard – but don’t you got a single-floor bed?”

“We do, but I’m not allowed to sleep…Oh. I forgot. He’s deader than a doornail!” He grabbed Brunhilde about the waist and carried her off fireman style, hauled her one door over, into the master bedroom – then kicked the door closed and set her on the bed again.

Finally deposited somewhere firm, Brunhilde took a brief look around. The bed was huge, enrobed in purple and silver – and over it was hung a portrait of the Baron staring down at them smugly.

Brunhilde shrugged, vowing to burn it first thing in the morning. She unbound her hair while Leonard watched her, head tilted to the side. That done, she knelt on the mattress and took the opportunity to slide a hand through the feathery covering of Leonard’s doublet. Feathers scattered everywhere as she removed his cap and figured out how to unbutton the doublet and get it off of his body. Then she unbuckled his scabbard and let it slide to the floor. Clad only in his body suit, certain things she’d only been able to guess at during their flirting became obvious.

“Well?” he asked.

“Yipee!” she said.

He got down on his knees beside the bed to kiss her, and his hands journeyed behind her, trying to get the clasp of her bra open. Somehow he did it without injuring the both of them, and his eyes went wide as the animal-print underwear was shimmied off of her shoulders.

Her outfit was simple to remove – the blouse, the cape, her Greek sandals and the undertunic. She shimmied down her panties, and when she sat back, completely naked, the bulge in the white body suit had become even more impressive, telling her all she needed to really know.

“What do _you_ think?” Brunhilde asked.

He bit his palm and launched himself at the bed.

There, they tussled, lips finding one another and hands roaming about frantically, trying to understand each other, if only physically. Brunhilde found his skin to be soft, except his hands, which were slightly calloused – what had Squigliachi had the boy doing out there for him, in his name?

For that matter, what _had_ Brunhilde known of him before she accepted his proposal? She’d seen Leonard several times a day due to Squigliachi’s persistent bird-dogging of Mimi, and every time he’d said hello to her, been kind, tried to help her father, in spite of occasionally ganging up against them with Squigliachi’s assistance. She had always thought him cute, and he was the first man to propose marriage to her, and he was kind – with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen in her life.

Those eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he kissed her repeatedly, and his big hands were gentle, worshipful, as they roamed along. They settled at her breasts and he broke the kiss between them to suck upon her nipples until her hips arched, trying to coax him into touching her. But he broke away. Then she saw his eyes flicker open. He wiggled his brows.

He had one of the feathers she’d scattered from his doublet between his fingers.

“Leonard?”

The feather was tickling her breastbone. “Can you call me Lenny, Hilde?”

 _”Hilde?”_ She asked.

He winced. “You don’t like it?”

She shook her head. “No one’s ever had a nickname for me before. But Lenny?”

“That’s my nickname. My real name.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to hear you call me that.”

His vulnerable tone of voice and expression made her heart open. “I’ll always call you Lenny,” she agreed.

“OK,” he said. And then the feather tickled her left nipple.

Brunhilde squirmed against him, laughing, and then he switched between breasts, soothing the ticklish feeling with his lips, his teeth, and the tip of his tongue. She tried to writhe upward against his touch, but he pinned her lightly downward with his free hand. Brunhilde had to settle for rubbing herself against his bodysuit-clad thigh as he had his fun.

The feather was going lower, lower – and her legs were parted by gentle but firm hands. Then she felt a puff of hot oxygen ruffle her pubic hair.

The brushing tickle of a feather teased along her outer lips before insinuating itself between them, right against the tip of her clitoris.

She bucked hard enough upward that she almost bruised his nose. “Ow!” Lenny pulled away and rubbed his face. “Eager much, wife?”

She growled and tried to claw him up toward her mouth, but he resolutely kept his face between her legs, nuzzling deeper, and his tongue drawing circles around her clit. When he flicked his tongue across it, she lost it. Her hips heaved again, the feather forgotten and the teasing behind her for the night. Lenny took her signals in and read them flawlessly – his tongue flicked broadly against her, keeping up the stimulation until she wove her fingers through his hair and tugged. A big hand landed on her breast, and a feathery brush teased her nipple again.

Brunhilde ground herself shamelessly against Leonard’s face, and a hand cupped her bottom, mashing him deeper into her wetness. The slippery sound of his licking filled the room and ran headlong into her nasal, desperate moans. 

His patience paid off – Brunhilde curled her knees toward the ceiling, feeling all of the sensation inside of her begin to peak. She shook in his grip, and pleasure burned through her body from her nipples to toes.

To her shock, he didn’t stop at all. She gripped his upper arms as he sucked on her clit. The second orgasm followed almost immediately, and it was needle sharp, this time making her call out and her knees collapse against the bed. 

Brunhilde felt unstrung, limp, as Lenny went on and on. Then the pleasure became pain and she gently shoved him backward. Brunhilde looked down at him. Kneeling between her legs, his face dripping with her release, his jaw slack and his arousal clear, she allowed herself but a minute to recover before tackling him and rolling him onto his back.

“How do I get you out of this?” she asked, tugging at the neckhole of his leotard.

“I dunno. I just always jump in every morning, feet first.”

Unfortunately for Lenny and whoever his tailor was, Brunhilde lacked the fortitude to get Leonard out of the tights without ripping them. She shredded them off of his body, tearing it from his shoulders - leaving him exposed from neck to upper thighs. He gaped at her in shock before she yanked him to her mouth by his hair.

Brunhilde’s valkyrie instincts took over, and she stroked and kissed her mate, tracing the pale blue lines of his veins and tiny brown birthmarks, her mouth learning the pale pink flats of his nipples as he writhed and moaned against her touch. She kissed and followed the line of dark blond hair down to what she desired most.

She’d seen her fair share of manhoods in her time, but his sent a unique pulse of excitement through her. _Yipee_ she thought to herself, and without any further warning took him down her throat with aching slowness.

“Hilde!” she heard Lenny babbling a few inches away from her. “Hilde? _Hilde!_ ” And the rest of his words were nonsense.

In her mouth and throat, he shook and pulsed. He was hot and hard, and getting harder, and Hilde wanted to see how far she could take him before he exploded. After a few minutes of bobbing on his cock, she snaked a hand down between her legs to rub herself, but Lenny noticed – he had her on her back in a heartbeat, his long legs clambering between her spread thighs.

He reached down for himself, and she shivered at the feeling of his cock running between her nether lips. But he paused. She looked up, and saw love in his blue eyes. How could he love her already? How could she love him? But she did. That much was true. “Can I?” he asked.

His gentlemanly behavior melted her. Suddenly, she wanted him beyond telling. “Yes, yes. Please?” she begged.

He nodded, his face right above hers. At last, she felt him enter her, solid and warm, and her breath gushed out in relief, clutching at his upper arms as he finally united their bodies.

Lenny’s head dropped to her shoulder and he let out a whinier sound. They froze together for a minute, before he pulled back and thrust forward, strongly.

She picked up the counter-rhythm easily, running her fingers over his face, through his hair, holding on for dear life. The ride was dizzying and exiting; it was one she wanted to replicate over and over again as the years went on. It was fun, but it was emotionally fulfilling on some level – different from rolling around in the back seat of some stranger’s Cadillac, to be sure.

He smiled down at her, but it was a toothy smile, half-grimace. She smiled back, but she knew her expression was feral. Her fingers tented against his back and dragged along his shoulders, and she tucked her legs up high against shoulder blades, which smoothed out his stroke and took him deeper into her, and she had to reach between them, to touch herself, to make it even better. The faster they moved the more exciting it felt, and the quicker she moved the finger stroking her clit.

He collapsed against her, his long body working frantically to pull her over the line with him. Everything was a race, but it was a race they were running together, and one they could take at a jaunt some other time. Brunhilde reached the threshold with a loud groan and a desperate heaving of her hips, her teeth skated along the rim of Leonard’s pale shoulder. 

When she cupped his bottom with both of her hands and – still twitching - squeezed down around him, his back arched and he gasped. That was more than enough for Lenny – he pulled back, resting his nose against her own, and lost control and moaned her name. Thrusting down into her twice more, he planted himself deep and rocked his hips up and down as his eyes rolled back in his head and then firmly shut. Heat spread through her as he jerked and twitched in her grip.

Brunhilde thoughtfully watched his expression as he flew through comic ecstasy and into tender peace. Some part of her wondered if they were doing just what they’d vowed to do in front of Mimi and her father and the Gods and, well, everyone. Either way, if every time was anything like this first one, they were going to have a lot of fun trying for all of those babies.

Later, they’d try to negotiate the practicalities of it all – if an assistant could move into and take over his old boss’ place, she had no clue. But at the moment she was overjoyed. 

And, she realized, covered in feathers. So was he – they’d stuck to his sweaty chest and were poking out of his greased-back, dark blond hair. They would need a bath when she had more energy. But right now, she was too tired to even get up and use the chamber pot.

Hilde stroked the side of Lenny’s face, gently as he relaxed into and around her. And, when he opened his eyes again and smiled down at her, she knew that he was just as happy as she was.


End file.
